


Dawnseeker

by babybrackish



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, just keeping this here for lore purposes uwu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrackish/pseuds/babybrackish
Summary: A collection of lore for my clan. Keeping it here so it doesn't get lost https://www1.flightrising.com/lair/511716/1725976/1?name=&type=undefined
Kudos: 1





	Dawnseeker

**Author's Note:**

> reference:
> 
> sevvy; his sister, lore-only
> 
> kholin; https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=511716&tab=dragon&did=58342740
> 
> dodger; https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=511716&tab=dragon&did=57034807

Kholin snarls as the rain pounds against his body, slipping down his cloak and his face. He flaps his ears, growling. All he wanted to do was make some fucking music, but nothing ever goes his way, does it?

He turns to glare at the sky, a bitterness settling over his heart. Why can’t anything go right for once in his life? He continues on, teeth bared. Mother would be so happy to see him struggle. 

The shimmering crystals of the Reaches jut up around him, curving up towards the Focal Point. The rain bounces off of them, glittering with the light that comes from them. It’s a beautiful scene, really, and it’s pleasant to witness. But it’s not so pleasant to be a part of. 

He ends up pulling himself up over a few rocks, his claws scratching against the stone, and curls himself up tight beneath one of the crystal’s curves. The rain still drips onto him, dampening him, but it’s better than being smack in the middle of the downpour. He curls up into a tight ball, huffing and pinning his ears back. Maybe he’ll write a rap about being caught in the rain.

He falls asleep there, drifting off into a peace he’s never known during his waking life.

  
  
  


******

  
  
  


When Kholin wakes, the storm has cleared, leaving the crystals sparkling even brighter in the sunlight. He stands and stretches out, extending his wings and shaking himself as his sleep-fogged mind slowly clears. He blinks the bleariness from his eyes before pulling himself back over the rocks and stepping into the sunlight.

He treks across the land for sometime, admiring the crystals in a distant, sad sort of way. He thinks Sevvy would like to see these crystals. A part of him wants to try reaching out to her at her new home in the Viridian Labyrinth, but she hasn’t spoken to him in months and he doesn’t think she even wants to anymore.

He pushes on despite the thoughts, determined to find  _ something  _ for him. He might push on to the Scarred Wasteland if he finds nothing here. Or to the neutral zone. Probably the neutral zone. 

Eventually, he spots a little diner. HIs stomach growls. He makes a low noise in his throat. He doesn’t have much money on him. Then again, he hasn’t eaten in two days. He sighs and gives in.

He heads inside the diner, grumbling at the jingle of the bell above him. The diner is mostly empty. There’s a Bogsneak behind the counter, scrubbing the surface, their tongue lolling out as they focus. In the corner is a brown Spiral, hood pulled over her head as she stares down at her cup.  There’s a smell of meat, breakfast in the air. His stomach growls louder. It’s starting to hurt.

He approaches the counter slowly.

The Bogsneak looks up, tongue still lolling out. “Hi,” they say. They have a lisp, their eyes big and round, a pair of glasses perched on their snout. “What can I get for you?” 

Kholin glances up at the menu, running his eyes down the list. The cheapest thing on it is jackalope meat. Not his favorite; it’s got an odd, inherently burnt, slightly bitter taste to it. Still, eating something out of necessity is a familiar thing to him. 

“I’ll get a plate of jackalope,” he says simply. He reaches into his pack, withdrawing the coins and tossing them to the counter. The Bogsneak nods, giving him a wide smile, and takes the coins before heading to the back. 

Kholin takes a seat, resting his chin on his table as he waits.

“Hi.”

Kholin flinches and lifts his head. Sitting across from him is the brown Spiral with her mug, blinking at him with deep green eyes from beneath her hood. He’s not sure how she got there without him noticing.

“I’m Dodger,” she says, voice smooth, and slowly grins. “Got a story for me?”   


He blinks at her. “What.”

“I’m Dodger,” she repeats, sliding her mug from paw to paw. “I’m the storyteller ‘round here. I like getting stories from the other drags.” Her eyes twinkle. “Everyone here has a story. What’s yours?”

Kholin blinks. “Why do you wanna know?”   


She shrugs. “Stories are my lifeblood. You got any lifeblood?”   


Kholin stares at her. Lifeblood. “Music’s mine.”

Her eyes grow brighter. “You’re a musician?”

Kholin’s face sours. “Coulda been, maybe. Focused on just surviving right now.”

“Surviving?” She leans forward, ears twitching. “There’s a story there.”

He leans back, looking towards the kitchen. He sighs. “Very poor family,” he says. “I just left. Broke.”

“Really?” She looks into her mug, humming. “Tell you what.” Kholin watches her, waiting for her to continue. She looks back up at him, smiling. “I think I got something that might let you focus on your music.”

His eyes narrow. The last dragon that had said that had stolen all the money he had left. “What?”

“A home for ya.”

He stares.

Dodger huffs. “My clan, it’s new. Just a baby clan, really, but the members are cool. I can introduce them to ya. I’m sure they’ll let you in.”

Kholin stares at her. “What?”

“They’re dedicated to welcoming in stragglers and rejects. If you’re one of those…” He tail swishes. “Come on in.”

He looks around the diner. “I - wait.” He takes a moment to gather himself, his thoughts tangled in his head. The possibility of a home, a family, is tugging violently at his heart. It’s overwhelming. 

_ Baby steps, Kholin.  _ He takes a deep breath. “Who’s in your clan?”

Dodger grins, tapping her claws on the table. “Well, there’s our leader, a Guardian named Duality. He’s very calm, level-headed. There’s his mate, the apothecary; nervous little Fae named Mania. They’ve got a nest of five eggs gettin’ ready to hatch. There’s our graveyard queen, Gaea. A little morbid, but she’s a sweetheart. Okay, really morbid, but still. She’s good. As quiet as an Imperial can come. There’s Loge;  _ extremely _ nervous Pearlcatcher. I’ve never met such an anxious Pearlcatcher. But they’re sweeter than most. They’re our messenger. There’s Koi, our ambassador. Pretty Imperial. He’s got looks and smarts, but he’s stuffy as hell. Still, he won’t turn you away.” She pauses. “Of course, there’s Carreening, too. Another Imperial. She’s very, very strong. Very protective. She’s gruff, but she’s cool.” She grins. “Then, of course, you’ve got me. The resident storyteller, and arguably the sexiest of the bunch, yeah? I’m cool.”

Kholin laughs. The Bogsneak brings him the jackalope and he mutters a thank you. He looks from the plate, to Dodger, and back again.

“Tell ya what,” Dodger says, “you eat your meal and then you can meet my clan, yeah?”

Kholin watches her. 

Maybe he’ll have a family again.

“Alright,” he says.


End file.
